Puzzling Kakashi
by Orodruin
Summary: There is something off about Kakashi. Sharingan no Kakashi is shinobi prodigy, undoubtedly, but he also reads the same book constantly, visits the obelisk obsessively, and avoids human interraction. All his life, people have been puzzling over Kakashi.
1. An Unusual Baby

**PUZZLING KAKASHI**

_R. Winters_

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_. I have never owned _Naruto_. I will never own _Naruto_. If you have any doubt later on in the story, refer to this disclaimer.

This is a story I have been working on for a long time, ever since I noticed that Kakashi shares some of the unusual behavioral ticks of my own brother, and it led me to think that the character might have some mild developmental disorder. (Duh, a heavy influence of childhood traumas, right? Of course his development was a little different from most children.) Anyway, all I am doing here is taking the characteristics Kakashi already has and pushing them to the extreme. This story is more of a character study in that sense, of both Kakashi and the puzzling workings of the human mind itself, but stop me if I start to preach for the cause, this is still a fictional piece of writing, not an information dump, and I hope you will find it enjoyable.

I look forward to hearing what you think of the first chapter.

Chapter 1 – An Unusual Baby

"Tadaima." Sakumo slid the door shut behind him and dropped his vest next to the wall. He rolled his shoulders and let out a relieved sigh before shaking his head and moving further into the house.

"Natsumi-san?" He called, peeking into the kitchen.

The Jounin frowned—the room was a mess. Two of the lower cabinets were open and a bag of rice had been spilled all over the floor.

"Natsumi-san?" He called again, moving on. There were torn scraps of paper littering three of the pillows in the sitting room, and his office door was open, an ink stain splashed across the side of his desk and the floor.

The man cringed and hurried down the hall to Kakashi's room. He slid the door open, "Natsumi-san? Kakashi!" The little boy and his caregiver were nowhere to be seen.

Leaving the door ajar, Sakumo continued towards the back of the house, trying to ignore the irrational thoughts beginning to surface in his mind. The damage was too focused and didn't match up with a possible break-in, but Natsumi didn't usually leave the house in a mess.

"Natsumi-san!" He called again, pausing to check his room and the other doors near the end of the hall.

"Outside, Sakumo!" A familiar voice finally responded, a little muffled by the walls between him and the woman.

Sakumo hurried through an open doorway into one of the many unused rooms in his house—the sliding door that connected to the backyard was already open and the Jounin released a second breath of relief before hurrying out.

His anxious gait slowed into something more leisurely as he spotted the elderly woman who had once been his own caregiver and was now his child's. Natsumi hadn't changed much from his childhood days, although her dark hair was streaked with gray and the wrinkles on her face had multiplied. She still wore traditional clothing, and her long, blue kimono looked bright in the afternoon sun.

"Natsumi-san," Sakumo called as he approached, glancing around, "Where's Kakashi?"

As he neared, he noticed the woman's expression. Her face looked worn and tired, and the skin around her eyes was tight. He frowned, stopping next to her.

"What is it? Did something happen?"

The woman made a frustrated noise. "Sakumo, I… Kakashi…" She met his eyes, her gaze pained but determined, "I'm sorry, Sakumo, but I don't think I can do this anymore."

It took a moment for the words to register. "What?" Sakumo asked, bewildered, "You mean…"

Natsumi shook her head, "I can't… I'm sorry, Sakumo, but I'm getting old, and Kakashi…" She sighed.

"Where is Kakashi?" Sakumo asked again, worried.

The woman pointed up and Sakumo looked, his eyes widening in surprise when he spotted his one-year-old son among the branches of a tree at the edge of the yard.

"He's been up there for hours," Natsumi said, a desperate edge in her voice like he'd never heard before. "He was crying, at first, but he wouldn't let me pull him out, and then he climbed even higher so I couldn't reach him… I couldn't find help because I was afraid he would fall while I was gone…"

Sakumo ran a hand through the short, disheveled hair on the top of his head, stopping when his fingers touched the base of his ponytail in back. "He climbed up a tree? How did he get up there?" He questioned, bewildered, "And why? Natsumi-san, I think you'd better explain."

The woman nodded. "Yes, well… Kakashi was sitting inside… playing…" She hesitated over the word and Sakumo nodded.

Kakashi had an interesting way of playing. He didn't care much for toys, although he stacked his blocks as high as he could reach if he noticed them scattered on the floor, but his favorite activity was tearing paper. He'd sit still and meticulously work on a piece of paper to extract as many tiny, paper squares as he could. Natsumi had expressed worry to him several times over the behavior, but Sakumo didn't see what the big deal was. He couldn't really remember playing with toys a child, either.

"When he suddenly got up and went into the kitchen," Natsumi continued, "I thought he might be hungry, so I followed him, but he was already getting into the cabinets, pulling out boxes and cans."

"I told him to stop, but he didn't listen—he never listens, you know—and as I was trying to put everything back, he pulled out a bag of rice and… well, you probably saw," Natsumi supplied.

Sakumo nodded again, "It's still all over."

"I'll clean it up before I leave," the woman assured him. "When I finally got him away from the cabinets, I started to brush up the rice, only to realize Kakashi was gone again. When I found him, he was in your office, covered with ink."

Sakumo grimaced.

"I yelled at him, but he didn't pay any attention—he was more upset by the ink on his hands, I think. That's when he ran out here," Natsumi finished. She shook her head in exasperation, "Sakumo… I've never taken care of a child like Kakashi before… he does these things… and he never listens to anything I say—I just don't think I can handle him. You need to find someone younger."

The Jounin sighed and looked up at the little boy in the tree. Kakashi wasn't even watching them—instead, he seemed to have found something interesting on the tree's leaves to stare at.

"Isn't it normal for little boys to act that way?" He asked rhetorically, "Kakashi's just… active… and he sees things a little differently. You said yourself he was a good baby."

For months he'd been in the routine of returning home to hear nothing but good things about Kakashi. He rarely cried and behaved about as well as any baby could, always looking intently at the world around him. Sakumo wasn't even sure when that had changed, but slowly Natsumi had started to tell him she was worried about the baby.

Concerns like _he doesn't look at me_ and _he should have started babbling weeks ago_ didn't particularly bother him. Kakashi was quiet, but some people were just reserved. He'd thought it was strange when Kakashi stopped drinking milk, unless it had cinnamon sprinkled in it, but that had only meant his son had strange tastes.

And then he'd started crawling, and soon after, walking, and Sakumo had been too proud of the little boy's physical prowess to be worried about his lack of gesturing or recognizing words.

"Is it really a problem?" He wondered out loud.

"I don't really know," Natsumi said again, "But I can't handle him. Even if he was a little fireball like you were, it would be easier."

Sakumo sighed, "Yes… I understand, Natsumi-san. I'll find someone else." Ever since he'd found out his wife was pregnant, the two of them had made plans for his old nanny to come in to watch the baby while they were away. Natsumi's occupation was to rear shinobi offspring while their parents were busy with missions and before they came of age to join the Academy. He already trusted her with his life, trusting her with his son's was easy.

"… Kakashi," the man called out as Natsumi headed back for the house. He frowned up at the boy, who hadn't even reacted to his own name.

"Kakashi!" He snapped again, louder, and was satisfied when the boy jumped slightly, large round eyes looking down at him, even briefly.

Shaking his head with exasperation as the boy's attention returned to whatever he'd been staring at, Sakumo began climbing the tree after him. Obviously, Kakashi _did_ recognize his name—or, at least, he knew when someone was shouting at him. He'd talk when he was ready; he was only a year old.

Stepping carefully onto the branch his son was perched on, Sakumo easily scooped the toddler into his arms, smiling down at the tiny boy, who looked at him briefly again before turning his attention to the leaves.

"Come on, let's get you down," Sakumo said, "You had Natsumi-san worried. You need to be more careful, Kakashi."

The man frowned slightly as he dropped to the ground, looking towards the house. He wasn't sure who he'd find to look after his son now. Someone _younger_, Natsumi had said, but Sakumo didn't really know many civilians in the first place.

He supposed he could talk with the other shinobi parents in town—someone was bound to know a good nanny.


	2. Room 111

**PUZZLING KAKASHI**

_R. Winters_

Thank you to everyone for the positive response! I will continue to do my best... Chapter 2 is a little shorter, but I think it's a pretty critical chapter... then again, I pretty much think every chapter is pretty critical here. If I update slowly, please forgive me. Life moves fast and I was honestly shocked that it had already been a month... Where does all my time go? Oh, yeah, only into the best job ever. Anyway, sorry for rambling, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2 – Room 111

The last place Sakumo wanted to be told to visit upon the return from a mission was the hospital. Especially when there were no injuries on his team.

The Jounin went straight to the front desk, pushing his way past a queue of waiting patients. "Where is Hatake Kakashi?" He demanded before the young woman standing across the desk could reprimand him for his behavior.

Her face clouded for a moment and she frowned, then briefly shuffled through a stack of papers in front of her. "He's in Room 111," she told him, "He should be finishing his lunch about now."

Sakumo nodded and took off again without even a word of thanks. He was at the room in seconds, and found the door to be locked. Growling in irritation, he reached into his hip pouch, fingers feeling for the tool he'd need when he was interrupted.

"Sakumo," the Jounin looked up at the casual form of address and was relieved to see one of the lead medics walking towards him, a woman whose expertise he trusted because he had personally witnessed her prowess on missions.

"Tsunade," he returned, then gestured to the door, "Do you have a key or can I break it down?"

The Sannin smiled a little and reached into her pocket. "I have a key," she assured him, "Did you speak with someone about his condition? You don't need to worry—Kakashi-kun isn't injured."

Sakumo frowned, waiting impatiently as she inserted the key and turned the lock. "Then why is he locked in a hospital room?"

The woman looked back at him, her hand frozen on the doorknob, and her brown eyes were unusually hard and stern. "Because Matsuri-san was injured. She's not set to be released for a few days, yet, and I doubt she's going to want to work for you again."

Sakumo grimaced. Matsuri was the fifth nanny he'd had to hire for his son, and he'd really thought she would work out—she was always gushing about what a sweet little boy he was, and didn't seem to mind about his quirks. "What happened?"

"Apparently, Kakashi got his hands on a knife, and effectively used it against her." Tsunade's expression softened slightly, "From the injury, it was probably an accident, but a serious one. Sensei wants Kakashi-kun evaluated."

Sakumo's face immediately set into a hard frown. "Kakashi _isn't_ unstable," he said firmly, "I'm sure he didn't hurt anyone on purpose—least of all Matsuri-san. He's too young to understand that he can hurt people like that, and he likes playing with knives—Matsuri-san knew that, she should have been more careful in keeping them away from him."

Sighing, Tsunade finally opened the door. "No one thinks Kakashi-kun stabbed her on purpose," she assured the riled father, "But there are other things, too. According to Matsuri-san, he hasn't even started to speak yet, and the medics couldn't get him to hold still for a thorough evaluation—they had to use a mild sedative to ensure he wasn't injured. And then he kept trying to run away. Sakumo, I don't mean to judge your parenting abilities, but how did he get this bad?"

Sakumo bristled, his eyes flashing with anger. "Bad!" He repeated incredulously. "He's not _bad_! He's just—" the man broke off, frustrated that he wasn't able to even think of a good way to describe his son. "He's _Kakashi_!" He blurted at last, "He has a lot of quirks, but there's nothing _wrong_ with him!"

Tsunade didn't get a chance to respond immediately because the little boy on the other side of the door started to cry. Sakumo made a frustrated sound and glared at the female medic.

"Most little kids don't like yelling," he growled in a challenging tone before pushing the door the rest of the way open and crouching in front of the bawling two-year-old.

He tried the usual methods of calming his son. He spoke softly and soothingly moved his hand along one of the boy's forearms, but Kakashi was rarely easily soothed when he was upset. Instead, he cried louder and tried to jerk away from the man. Sakumo scooped up the flailing body and turned towards the door again.

"If you don't mind, Tsunade-hime, we're going home," the man stated frostily.

Tsunade frowned, first at the crying toddler, then at her old friend. "Maybe you're right and there _is_ nothing wrong with him, Sakumo," she said, although her expression was doubtful, "But if there _is_ something wrong with him, the sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we might be able to help him move through it. Sign him up for an evaluation before you leave."

Sakumo rolled his eyes and moved to step past her—Tsunade stepped into his path, frowning sternly.

"It isn't a request, Sakumo. I've spoken with sensei about it already. We can't risk more people being injured if he's a danger to those around him. Until he's evaluated, you won't be able to leave him in the care of anyone else."

"I said we're leaving," Sakumo repeated firmly, his expression unyielding.

The woman stared at him hard for another few seconds before reluctantly stepping aside to allow the pair passage.


	3. In the Night

**PUZZLING KAKASHI**

****_R. Winters  
_

I've been debating for a while whether to put this chapter here, after the next chapter, or just to scrap it all together, but it was an issue I wanted to address, so in the end I decided to keep it. Anyway, I can't be long-winded right now because I can only barely work my way around a keyboard, so I hope you enjoy this short installment, and thanks for reviewing!

Chapter 3 – In the Night

Sakumo sighed, rubbing the back of his head tiredly. He had just gotten Kakashi to sleep—the boy seemed to be constantly getting up for one thing or another, and never wanted to slow down. Even after only a few days stuck at home with him, Sakumo was getting tired.

He wondered whether other parents had such a hard time getting their children to sleep, thoughts warily dancing around the idea that Kakashi might be more than a little different from his age-mates.

Shaking his head, the Jounin slipped through the back door, taking in a deep breath of crisp air, and forced himself to relax. Kakashi would be fine. Children always were.

Perfect white flakes of snow fell from the sky, and Sakumo smiled slightly, tilting his head up to watch. It was beautiful, and it was perfect, and it was quiet. His body longed for bed, but the man lingered, losing himself in the moment of serenity.

A sound behind him caused him to turn, and Sakumo's eyebrows rose to see the door sliding open. Kakashi—who was supposed to be asleep—looked up at the black sky, blinking slowly as he stared at the falling white specks. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped through the doorway, still staring out at the falling snow.

"Hey!" Sakumo called out, loudly enough that the boy stopped in his tracks and shot him a startled look. "You'll catch a cold out here like that, Kakashi!" The man chastised, quickly moving to grab the two-year-old.

The boy made a noise of protest as his father scooped him up and whisked him back indoors. He set the squirming boy inside and held him still with one hand while he reached for the boy's shoes with the other.

"It's cold tonight, Kakashi," Sakumo explained, "There's snow, and you need to dress warmly if you want to go out."

Probably, he should march the little boy back up to his room, but Kakashi loved to play outside, and this was the first time it had snowed all year. Kakashi had been too little to play in the snow last year, and now that the boy was here, Sakumo couldn't help but want to share the moment with his son.

He put one shoe on the floor and Kakashi raised his foot—his father helped to guide it in. The process was repeated with the second foot. Immediately, the two-year-old attempted to push past him, but Sakumo caught him again.

"No, no, I told you it's cold!" The man chastised, chuckling. "We have to find you a jacket, and a scarf or something. Then you can go outside."

The two-year-old was quick to make his unhappiness clear, squirming as his father dragged him back to the closet, and then starting to whine. Sakumo rolled his eyes.

"You'll thank me tomorrow when you're not sick in bed," he said dryly.

One hand keeping a firm hold of struggling little boy, Sakumo opened the hall closet, frowning as he shuffled through the clothes inside. Smirking, he pulled out a dark colored jacket and knelt down in front of the two-year-old, struggling for a moment to shove the boy's hands through the arms. The jacket was too small—Sakumo made a mental note to buy him a new one—and Kakashi pouted, quickly trying to pull it off again. Sakumo pulled the zipper up before he could get out of it.

Still holding on, this time by the boy's jacket, he shuffled through the closet a little more, frowning. Kakashi had gone back to squirming again and Sakumo's frown deepened and he dug around a little further.

At last, Sakumo pulled out of the closet empty-handed. He looked down at Kakashi, who was frowning slightly and staring at the corner of the closet door.

Sakumo considered sending Kakashi to bed again, but that would mean he would have to spend the entire night outside his door, trying to keep him there. Kakashi had his mind set on going outside, and it could be hours before he gave up trying. Still, it was snowing, and it was colder than Sakumo remembered it being in Konoha for at least ten years, a little boy needed a little more than sandals and a light-weight jacket to keep him warm.

"Apparently the scarves have mysteriously disappeared, Kakashi," the man explained calmly. "We're going to have to find something else, okay?"

Sakumo gave up on dragging Kakashi halfway up the hall, and lifted the flailing two-year-old under one arm instead. It made searching the boy's closet for something suitable much more difficult when one hand, and sometimes both, were always busy juggling the writhing child around.

Kakashi settled down a little when they left his room again. Sakumo headed to his own—maybe he'd put the winter clothes up in his closet—it had been a long time since they had needed them, and Kakashi hadn't even been born then.

A quick search turned up nothing. Sakumo was about ready to call it quits and just throw a blanket over Kakashi's head when inspiration hit him. Tearing open the top drawer of his dresser, Sakumo pulled out one of his masks and knelt in front of his son again.

"Alright, Kakashi, are you ready to go outside?" He asked cheerfully.

The boy didn't respond, but tried to make for the door again, and Sakumo took that as a _yes_.

"Let's put this mask on, then you can go outside, okay?"

Managing to catch the two-year-old off guard, Sakumo pulled the black cloth down over his face, the stretchy material just a little loose on the boy. He'd only just got it into place when Kakashi's small hands immediately reached up to pull it off again.

Sakumo caught him with the mask half off of his head, catching it with one hand and trapping the boy's arms with his other so he could pull it back into place again, frowning.

"It's too cold outside," he explained again, "If you want to go out, you have to wear this."

The moment he released Kakashi's arms, his hands were tugging at the mask again.

Sakumo frowned at the boy sternly, "You can go back to bed, if you'd rather."

He pulled the mask down with finality, and Kakashi used the opportunity when his father's grip on him loosened, to bolt. Sakumo rolled his eyes, and followed at a more sedate pace. He could feel the boy's chakra, and it was hovering around the porch. He picked up the discarded mask by the door and joined Kakashi outside.

The little boy had his head tilted back, staring up at the bright, white flakes falling steadily from the dark, inky black sky. Sakumo smiled slightly. No one could tell him that there was something wrong with this—this expression of complete fascination and appreciation.

He stepped up to his son's side, and gently pulled the mask over his head one more time, shifting it a little until it settled into place.

Kakashi ignored it, and slowly stepped forward, a small hand rising to catch a falling snowflake on his palm.

Sakumo's smile widened and he hung back on the porch, watching as the boy moved slowly around the yard, catching snowflakes and stooping to run his fingers through the light dusting of snow already building on the grass, his eyes constantly returning to the white flakes falling from the dark sky.

The others simply didn't understand, because they didn't see what he saw. Kakashi might be different from the other children his age, but there was no way that the small two-year-old admiring his first snow-fall could be wrong.

Sakumo held on to the thought tightly like a lifeline, and tried to push Tsunade and the others from his mind. For a little while, at least, things could be perfect, on this still, winter night.


End file.
